Child
by Mable
Summary: The tale of the Scientist's first creation and the unfortunate mistake that sets off a cataclysmic chain of events that shall affect life itself, for the worst.


**Mable: A different kind of fic. I won't say much except I don't own **_**9. **_**Enjoy!**

* * *

_**Child**_

The second when life began was sudden.

One second, there was nothing, the next, there was everything. Blurry scenery and a soothing voice, a thrilled older voice, one that he'd soon recognize uniquely. For now, though, he tried to move a bit, strung up by something that he didn't realize was his arm at the time. Something warm went underneath him and felt something soft and warm against his new legs.

The thing that bound his hand was tampered with and he was released into the grasp beneath him, the palm of a much larger creature. He blinked and attempted to look around in confusion of what was occurring. Even though he could fathom the thought that something was amiss he couldn't manage to think of anything before this.

That was when he started trying to move for the first time, upon seeing a figure above him and reaching for it. "Welcome to the world, young one." The soothing voice somewhat scared the newborn who winced at the sudden booming volume of it being so close. He turned to the side a bit and managed to see his hand, lifting it to look it over.

It was almost claw-like, dark metal, and looking at himself he saw he was made of white fabric. Something on his chest was held closed by small metal hooks and loops, he somewhat poked at them, and the voice spoke again. "Does anything hurt? Do you feel alright?" The small one nodded slowly, up at the face he could now see clearly. He didn't know why, but when he saw this taller being he was amazed, and he felt strangely safe. "That's good. That's very good." A soft chuckle; the male seemed ecstatic at the little one's reaction.

Maybe it was his creator.

"I…" He couldn't form words yet, he was too shaky, "I… I…" While his voice continued to fail, his creator held him gently, being steady and careful as he explained, "I am your father." The fingers of the hand began to stroke the younger one's back, causing him to release his first smile, and it returned his Father's. "You are my son, Child."

* * *

Only days after his birth and Child had excelled past his father's expectations. He had begun to speak fluidly, his reflexes were amazing, and his intellect began to rise with every lesson he was given. His father was a scientist who, even in the middle of something important, found time to take care of his son. Apparently he had been working on something amazing, something that would change the world, and in the middle of his research he miraculously decided that he wanted to create life before he got too old to do so.

In the short amount of time of being alive, though, Child realized quickly that he was different, and while he didn't scorn his father he did feel a bit of longing at times. It was days like this, quiet and alone, that he would push the window open and stare down at the street far below. The humans never saw him and he was glad for he suspected they wouldn't take to him like his father did. It made Child feel strange, an unidentifiable sadness, and he decided not to look anymore.

Instead he climbed down to circle the room that was his home. Father would be back soon, and Child wanted to play a game of chess with him, their favorite game. They were quite matched even with Child being younger which he didn't really understand. The doll didn't understand a lot of things about this world. Even when he stared at the globe, spinning it round, the sphere map didn't seem to help make anything easier to grasp. Just as he was heading to his own little area, he heard footsteps, and froze his own to listen. As soon as he recognized the gait he found himself forgetting all about his confusions ad rushed to the door.

His father entered with a smile and a box that most likely contained more things for Child to examine and play with. "Good afternoon, Child." The Stitchpunk eagerly smiled back, "Good afternoon, Father, I missed you." The box was placed on the workbench and the Scientist kneeled to lift his son off of the ground. Child felt bad, his father always struggled a little when standing back up from kneeling, probably from his age.

However, once he saw into the box of many various things, he began to again forget his troubles. So many unique things; watches and trinkets, books and toys, everything Child would need to be happy. He immediately went through to look at everything when his Father asked a bizarre question, "Perhaps tomorrow you could come with me to the lab?"

Child was taken aback; he didn't expect his father to take him around humans, so he voiced his distress, "I would… But I don't want to be seen." His father looked mixed in emotions, but Child surely saw relief somewhere. "I could take you there after the others have left. I have something I would like to show you." Child vigorously nodded; as though the three quarters of the day he spent with his father wasn't enough. Then he went to look at the new box of supplies with his father, happy.

* * *

Never did Child expect his father to work in such a large building with walls so thick that noise couldn't be heard through them. He was in awe and watched as he was carried deeper and deeper into the facility. Once down yet another flight of stairs, he was taken to a thick door where the Scientist paused, "What I am to show you, Child, might surprise you." Child waved it off, "Father, I am sure I can handle any sort of experiment." He had said that confidently, but it changed as the door was open into a pitch dark room. The lights were soon turned on and Child saw it for the first time.

It was like the globe, a sphere, but it was some sort of creature. Two small arms protruded as the only limbs and right at the second the lights came on, a large red circle the alit with a red glow. He knew it was an eye staring back at him as he stared into its core. He only half recognized being set down on the floor as his Father touched the larger creature, it looked at him in turn, "Child, this is my creation the- We just refer to it as 'Brain' for now." He explained and stroked its head like it was precious to him.

The machine actually reached out for the Scientist's hand and attempted to shake it, as it had apparently learned that this was normal custom. "It- He is learning very fast. He's to change the world as we know it, forever." The older male then noticed something off and was working on the Machine briefly, on its arm, and Child just stood there. He stared at the machine and watched as it eventually looked back at him, studying him as he studied it. There was silence and absolutely no emotions. Then it suddenly made a noise and its optic flickered.

The scientist suddenly stood, "The only problem that we have supporting Brain is that none of the self-sustainable energy forms we have tried work." He directed Child's attention to an outlet nearby, a normal outlet, "For now we must keep him connected to an electrical source most of the time he is awake. He only has a few minutes without it before he falls into rest." He entered a cord from the machine's back into the outlet and it began to stir yet again. "Child," The scientist smiled, "What do you think of him?" Child couldn't express exactly what he felt; it was such an unusual emotion.

That's when he knew exactly what it was; hate.

* * *

It took all of Father's attention, it took away all his energy, and Child now knew that the hate he felt at first glance hadn't been anything compared to this. Sometimes he found himself pacing hotly and just thinking about that horrible machine that was supposedly his equal. However, he insisted it wasn't, because it wasn't anything but a cold, emotionless _monster. _

Child's hands clenched and he struck out at the closest thing in site. Quickly after he felt the pooling ink on the ground and scolded himself for knocking over the inkwell. He began to clean it with some paper when he heard his father's footsteps again. It caused him to smile; Father came home earlier today than usual. He was so busy sorting himself that he didn't immediately catch the look that was plastered on the scientist's face.

"Good afternoon, Father! How was-...?" He cut off as he saw it; horror, perhaps sadness, and a small bit of panic that concerned Child. "Father? Did something happen?" The Scientist seemed to be in shock, but managed to speak, "Nothing, Child. I just had an eventful day." This was a blunt lie, but Child wasn't about to scorn his father for trying to protect him.

The man sat at the workbench on his chair, not speaking, and he then tried to attempt the lie again. "I… I am fine, my son… I'm just tired…" Child then realized the truth, "It was that _thing _wasn't it? What did it do to you?" He demanded and the human stared at the desk. Then he put his head in his hands and ended up muttering the story of how the machine had been taken.

In that second, Child felt something new; hate. This time, however, the hate was directed at the humans.

* * *

Child was too small and too different to be accepted by the narrow minded race anyhow, so the growing hate wasn't a bother to him in the slightest. Nobody could see him looming up on the roof of his father's home and staring out across what he could see of Luxembourg. The city that once seemed amazing and curious was now just filled with those foolish creatures who wanted nothing but war.

The news of working with machines spurned many to fight, feeling nearly invincible, but Child knew better, especially when they were created by the machine that was stolen from his Creator. Even now Child saw something that destroyed the image of the peaceful day; The dark smoke pouring into the sky and filling it with pollution. That couldn't be safe and yet the main problem was from inside, where the monster was at working, repairing and creating other machines.

He lets out a string of words that are hissed like swears, "Mechanical, wasteful, disgusting, soulless _monster._" He furrowed his stitched eyebrows, "Why am I the only one who can see this Beast as what it is? A scar, a wound, and a parasite!" He let out a huff and whispered again, "Or perhaps the parasites are the ones who are living off of it." Then Child growled, "Humans are so predictable, bloodthirsty, they smile and laugh even hundreds of others are killed by the machines every day. I must be a saint to not be of their kind."

He stared out at the smoke a bit longer before deciding to retreat inside his Father's home again. Right now Father was out, perhaps he was desperately trying to get the machine back, and Child was given some time to think, not that he particularly wanted time to think about what that thing in the factory was building next.

Instead he went into his father's workshop and tried to find something to take his attention away. Of course, there was something new that recently ate at him, and was the only thing he wanted. He didn't want to ask his father for anything now, what with the older being in so much distress at the time. Still the need lingered; he wanted a sibling.

The machine didn't count to what another Stitchpunk would be. Someone pure, like him, who could spend all of their time with him, and it was all he wanted. Though he knew better, Child knew that this event had shattered his plans to stunt his lonely days glaring at the race that considered itself higher than him. While he still blamed the machine, hated the machine, the hate for the humans was growing.

Crossing to the radio, he turned it on, and immediately growled as he took in words he didn't want to hear. Praising for the monster, lies that 'Julius' had given it to the public, and even praising of that Chancellor. The Chancellor, Child saw him at the labs once, was a tall man who shouldn't have had power over a pack of wild dogs, let alone the city of Luxembourg. The way he hissed Father's name, pronouncing it either different or completely incorrect, was a terrible reminder of exactly what the humans thought of the man who created life on his own. Child couldn't understand why they didn't see him like a king, a ruler, instead of a thrown away Scientist.

The most irritating part, though, was that they still worshiped the bringer of death, Brain. That monster was no miracle as the human on the radio said so he considered the man a fool and shut it back off. Then he sunk to the ground and just sat there, staring at the floor, and realized that nothing was going to change unless something was done. But there wasn't a thing that he could do.

He couldn't even leave this house without being hidden by his father, so he was quite worthless. There was a malicious and hateful wish that the machine would turn against the humans that lingered in the back of Child's mind, but it couldn't without sentience, and it had no emotions. It had no soul.

* * *

Sometimes Child was willing to throw caution to the wind and venture out into the world. As he now held a makeshift weapon, he looked at his prey, and prepared himself to strike. It was a small, arachnid, repair beast that had strayed a good few feet from the factory and practically defenseless. So Child struck, rushing forward and bringing his spear down upon its head.

The blade was long and pierced far enough down that the creature shrieked, stumbled a bit, and Child stabbed it again, and again, and again, until finally the light in its optic faded away to nothing. It felt good, like he was hurting the machine, and Child felt a small smile, or perhaps a smirk, tug at his lips. Then he continued with the original plan and entered the factory to study the creature that ruined his life.

Instead there were hundreds of the larger beasts, still in process, a few looked at Child as he passed without thoughts or emotions. He felt superior to them as he strode into the main room; the superior feeling turned to anger as soon as he saw it. He saw in the newspaper that it didn't look like an or anymore, but he didn't expect this many arms, all of them working. "You." He hissed, and it didn't look over.

Of course it wouldn't acknowledge him so he approached further. He climbed up to nearly beside it, he glared, at its optic only past him once to look for a part. When he still went ignored, Child turned away, angrier than before, and left while making sure to drag his kill home as well. Perhaps he knew what he would do before he did it. He needed to release the anger and the only thing that looked good to attack was the corpse.

As soon as he was home he turned upon the beast and was uncontrollably impaling it like before, but he didn't stop. He smashed its parts, removed its limbs, made it nothing but rubble, and then suddenly began to work. He didn't know what exactly he was doing as he reset the wires into new positions, using its own parts as tools as he began to feel growing warmth in his insides. Still, he had no idea what he was doing until he was finally done at the end. Then he stood, silently, and watched as the other stood as well.

It looked like a half-made spider beast, much smaller, stumbling around in confusion, but it was clearly alive, and Child stepped back. He couldn't believe that he had done something so shocking and undeniably wrong at the same time. As he watched the beast move to life, he knew he had past any line that lingered between right and wrong; he had actually created a life. Instead of hating it, like the other beasts, he found himself kneeling down and reaching out to it. It didn't scurry away, it came right to his arms, and he embraced it close. Finally, he wasn't alone.

He had taken something the beast made and destroyed it, before recreating it in his _own_ image.

* * *

Pet was all that Child had ever needed in a companion. It ran around playfully and fetched things when Child asked it to, in return he had managed to repair it and make its body easier to move. It became the only thing he respected and loved, other than Father, and yet Child was beginning to feel empty.

He had been sitting on the window seal for about an hour now, leaning against the side as he stared out at the city of Luxembourg. His expression, and feelings, were empty of emotion as he just lay limp like a doll. That was all he was in this world anyway so he saw no point in fighting it. The same black smoke could still be seen through the moonlight that had once seemed radiant. Now the skies seemed to always be polluted with clouds; Child wondered if it was caused by the smoke somehow.

"Am I…?" His voice was flat, "I'm alone." Then he accepted it. He was alone, in every conceivable way that was possible. The only Stitchpunk, the only non-human, and the only one not blind to the creature that stole his father away from him, and then was stolen away by foolish humans.

The anger was always there, it made Child feel wrong and out of place. He didn't like always being angry, and wished he could feel something, anything else. As he stared out he could feel something begin to crawl on the leg he had propped up on the window and looked down to see Pet there. The little Beast was perhaps numb to the things Child wasn't, but it made him still feel a bit better. He grasped the smaller and pulled it into his lap before stroking it lovingly.

Small, strange purring noises appeared to show that Pet was enjoying the treatment, causing Child to smile. For the first time in a long while he happy. With that happiness, though, came inspiration, and suddenly a foolish idea entered his head. He knew it was foolish, but couldn't suppress it as he looked out towards the factory.

"I could destroy it."

It would hurt the humans in the way that Child himself had been hurt, while destroying and getting rid of the pest known as 'Brain'. It would fix everything, and even with previous doubts Child wanted to attempt it. Beforehand, though, he made up his mind that he wanted to do something else first and sent Pet to his small nest before climbing down off of the workbench.

He headed into the other room that he knew well, Father's bedroom, and could see his parent asleep in bed. Father probably assumed Child was asleep too and it made the doll feel guilty. He climbed up onto the bed and shook his father a bit, "Father?" He was a light sleeper and so he awoke quickly, "Child? What are you doing up so late?" Child felt a little better when hearing his father's gentle tone.

"I… I can't sleep." Child lied, "Can I sleep with you?" Of course his father agreed and allowed the small doll to crawl under the blankets. This had happened a few times before and Father hadn't really expected anything too different, but Child knew different, he had a foreboding feeling in his insides as he curled against his parent. That warm hand that created him, covering him again, and loving him. Father really was the only one to love him and he knew he was risking losing that love forever. Still, he fell asleep.

He hoped that the plan would fail by him sleeping through the night, but he unfortunately awoke in the early morning, and it was still pitch dark outside, so the plan had to continue on. Child slid out of his father's grasp and headed into the workshop. There was something he needed to do before he left, and it was nearly a horrific thought. He called Pet to him, tool in hand, and explained the situation even if the other didn't understand.

"I am leaving for a bit… And I think it would be best if I shut you down until I return." He flipped Pet onto his back gently, "I will be back soon, don't worry." He worked quick enough that Pet didn't know what happened before he was shut down. However, it was the last hit for Child, who suddenly broke down. He let out soft, pitiful wails as he stared at his companion who was no longer awake, and continued to do so even after he hid him away under a loose floorboard under the workbench.

With him, he hid a note to his father that he knew would never get read, and then fixed himself enough to grab his weapon. _"To my father, who I love dearly,_" Child headed downstairs and managed to slip out through the backdoor before heading through the empty streets. _"I don't wish to leave you, but I must. I cannot let this atrocity continue between humans, murder, and the machine." _No one was out this late to his relief and he crossed to the protected factory, passing every gate, crossing the bridge, and heading closer to the production of smoke.

"_I didn't wish to hurt you, so I'm leaving quickly. I love you, I thank you for giving me life, and I will make you proud._" The factory wasn't guarded and as Child entered, he felt the boil of anger overtake his insides. It was awake, as always, and he thought of how to destroy it. The anger overtook, he tried to lunge at it, but it paid no mind to him and passed him by unthreatened.

It was only then that Child realized he had to think through a real plan and stopped attacking to view his enviroment. He then noticed a thick cord on the ground, tracing it with his optics and realizing that it went into Brain's back, and then tracing it to the wall where it was connected to what looked like some sort of generator. Of course, it needed the electricity to live, and Child felt proud to be the one to figure out such a weakness.

The cords were thick and he sawed through them, taking his time, relishing every second of it. There was a risk of electrocution, naturally, but something in the cord must have stopped it from occuring. Once the cords were severed he knew that it would soon be over and he strode over before the machine with a wide smirk, "Monster!" He yelled, and was pleasantly surprised when it glanced over, "Yes, you know your origin I see. Either way; your end is neigh, and your kingdom has fallen. No longer shall you make machines for those _disgusting _humans, no longer shall you live without a soul, and the world will fall as you do. Any second now."

He waited, it watched him, and then the optic flickered. It started to fall, trying to pull itself back up, but failed and faltered again. Finally it fell to the ground and its arms grasped around before going still. Child felt a euphoric feeling envelope him and he turned around to leave into the night. It was done, it was over, the machine was no more. He hadn't been able to get full revenge on the humans, but this was good enough, and he felt a soft chuckle rise in his inside frame.

He was a bit unstable off of the high from killing something that plagued him for so long. Though, he did feel a bit bad for it, the pathetic thing hadn't been given a chance to be a living creature, to feel, to think with its own priorities in mind, and Child, for the first time in his life, felt equal to the Beast. He found a smile being tugged across his pale burlap as he crossed the chamber to the exit of the factory that filled the sky with the thick smoke. That was, until he heard a noise, and then paused to listen.

It was a squeak like something metal was beginning to open. As he turned back he was confused to see that the optic lens on the monster had opened and allowed him to see into the dark optic. The pupil was dilated as though it really was deceased and so he hoped it was only from faulty building on the beast. He couldn't see the mechanics inside, though, and decided he wasn't willing to go look closer.

There was a metal upon metal noise from inside the beast and suddenly Child wondered if this creature was still alive, still attempting to survive. It was proven when long strand of cords, tipped with sharp claws, burst from inside and went straight for the first thing that could give life.

The Stitchpunk himself.

They grabbed into his fabric and dragged him in quickly, trying to shut the lens on him. Child panicked and attempted to struggle, fearful, and felt a sharp pain as something entered his back. Burning pain filled every inch of him and he managed to pull enough strength together to pull himself out of the optic. He burst into the light and began trying to drag himself away before looking at himself.

Something black and wet covered him, burned him, and even his fabric began to melt away. Being pumped inside from the cord that he could see latched into his back, he could feel it trying to fuse with his interior. It pulled him back and he tried to tightly hold onto the ground. His breath was obscured and he coughed, the same black liquid came from his mouth, and Child knew it was some sort of oil.

The pain was so intense that he began to scream, "Father!" He desperately called as he was drug back, "Father! _Father!" _His voice cracked oddly and started to melt away, literally, as his voice box was damaged beyond repair. His voice could only try the lowest frequency, "Fath…. Fath…." Back he was drug, into the machine, and the lens shut. Then, suddenly, everything seemed to disappear, and everything went dark.

A bit later and the eye alit again; the Machine awoke again and went back to its work. No longer did it need to be plugged in as there was now something inside that gave it more than it would ever need. It turned to its newest creation that it had previously been working on and began to address the wires that would give it the ability to move. The second it touched the machine, began to work, it faltered. Its grasp shifted onto its creation as it temporarily lost control of its functions.

The control came back, though, and it now turned to work again, but this time something was different. There was something else there.

The multiple copies of the Machine blueprints saved inside, the Rational behavior indicator that implied what one could do to not injure itself, the ability to recognize the humans as the superior being, and something new that began to override all of the others, coming from its new power source.

Anger. Disgust. _Hate._

Then the Machine attacked, savagely assaulting what was to be his new creation and now deemed unfit. Hate; hot threads enwrapping and pulsing through a metal being that previously felt nothing. Electricity crackled across its frame as the Beast was now mere pieces of unused metal upon the floor. It wasn't worth anything; it was one of the _humans' _weapons. The Machine now managed to pull together a rational thought; it wasn't their weapon, it wasn't the humans' slave, and it wanted nothing more than to completely obliterate the _worthless parasites_ that it previously obeyed.

It now turned to the remnants of the Beast that it had destroyed,

And rebuilt it in its _own_ image.

* * *

**Mable: I didn't fully edit it because I doubt anyone will read anyway. I've been getting only one or two reviews on my fics now, so I don't feel as though I need to be that precise anymore. If anyone wants to see more that relates to this fic, I was thinking of it, but I'm not sure whether to do so or not. It wouldn't be added to this fic, it would be a separate fic. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!**


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